Mimic Drawing Novels & Stories

Ang kanyang mga mata, na dati ay kayumanggi, ay panandaliang nag-flicker sa kulay violet. ​Hindi siya clone, at hindi rin siya cyborg. Siya ay isang Bio-Mimic—isang bagong creation ni Vane kung saan ang bawat cell ay isang micro-computer na kayang gayahin ang human tissue hanggang sa antas ng DNA. ​Naglakad siya patungo sa nursery kung nasaan si Alexander. Ang bawat hakbang niya ay hindi naririnig ng mga sensors dahil ang kanyang katawan ay naglalabas ng isang Frequency Jammer.

The distance between their dreams and reality was getting larger every day. Mimi went over the card once more, running her fingertips over the text. Was it too late? Could this actually be fixed? Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle vibration on her phone, reminding her of the message that was still pending response. Her fingertips lingered over the phone's screen as she paused. For a brief while, however, she allowed herself to accept the lie she had told herself—that everything would be alright—and returned her focus to Simeon's sketch. With ritualistic calm, the morning unfolded as it always did. Gathering her belongings, getting ready, and taking one last look at her reflection, Mim

Craig mocked. “Did you just call this a game set?” Simon gasped in disbelief, pointing at Caleb's drawing. Overall, the boys knew they drew perfectly, but they all had the intention of joking in that manner. “I could draw a computer better than this when I was in kindergarten, bro. Eyesore. Eyesore.” He muttered and feigned barfing, which made them all eye him, their feigned disgust writing on their faces.

“This ugly motherfucker is a Drathos Beast. Scaled and resistant to most blades. But it’s slow. Stupid. There’s a gland beneath the tail joint. Hit it with fire or lightning, it’ll detonate. Boom. Pretty colors.” He turned to the third one, his expression darkening slightly. “And this… this is a Mire Walker. The worst. It mimics emotions, faces, even voices. It’s the only one that can speak. Don’t listen to it. Don’t look it in the eyes. You stab it in the heart, and you do it fast.” Every word he spoke sent shivers down my spine. Not from fear. From lust. He wasn’t just knowledgeable, he was confident. Tactical. Deadly.

"Mortin, give me the paper." The called guy gave Josh the piece of paper that had a drawing on it. A sketch, or you can say a person's face painted on it. "See, i made you this." Josh showed Miles the paper and it had his picture painted on it, the painting was so beautiful, it was as in the person has projected Miles's true self on the paper, each and every detail was so perfectly made but there was one default, his hair......they were black, jet black, and they are shorter than his own.

From the far end of the hallway emerged two figures—Resistance soldiers, faces grim. But one of them wasn’t blinking. Ivy's heart jumped. "Don't move," Asher warned, raising his weapon. The second soldier lunged—too fast, too smooth. The mimic. It dropped its disguise mid-leap, revealing a swirling, featureless face with Ivy’s reflection glimmering in its surface. Asher fired three times—once to the chest, once to the head, once to the wall behind it. The mimic shrieked as it hit the ground, spasming before dissolving into ash.

"They know Lexi, don't worry. These are't the same Mimic's as the undeveloped ones that scavenge here. They've eaten enough and experienced enough to be as intelligent as you or I. They just prefer this form." Lexi turned back to watch the pulsating masses of fluid begin to form their bodies into distinctly human looking forms with various features, melding their clothes to match the style of the Dark Magick users that they had encountered so far. She had to admit that mimics really were incredibly talented when it came to this, and the fact that they were now conversing casually with the transformed daemons alongside them in clear and cohesive speech astounded her. "Do they speak other lang

The greedy bastard. So I took her hand instead and helped her step into the tub with me and got us settled. I sat in the back and put her in front of me, her slippery bum resting temptingly against my suddenly reawakening cock. I told my tackle to shut the hell up, and to imagine Muriel the street vendor and her accompanying mustache if he wanted more of Brynne's divine fanny. That did the trick. Muriel was hideous, and probably not even a real woman. Maybe not even human. In fact. I'm sure Muriel is really an alien scout sent here to sell newspapers and learn the language. I still craved my Djarums. Piles of them.

The three mates were in the kitchen, Dior sitting on a stool by the kitchen island and Dre resting against the island next to the smaller man while Mimi was by the stove making carrot soup. Her little hips were swaying innocently as she hummed a song while her mates conversed. When she walked past them, Dior smacked her ass making her gasp at him in shock. He winked at her and she blushed turning away from him but he grabbed her so she was standing between his legs. "Dre and I were thinking about you getting bitten soon." Mimi unconsciously rubbed her neck where the bite would be. "Don't worry, we'll mark you before you get your bite. We were just thinking about it." The smaller male assured

silences, the voice that whispered in the shower, the voice that screamed into pillows when the grief became too large for the body that contained it. "You've been avoiding me," the mimic said. It smiled, and the smile was wrong too—it was too knowing, too patient, too much like a predator that has finally cornered prey too tired to run. "But you can't avoid me here. This is where I've always lived. Inside the parts of you that you don't let anyone see."